


let's talk about sects

by hoverbun



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Awkward Crush, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Humour, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoverbun/pseuds/hoverbun
Summary: Where Stephanivien has confidence, Jannequinard has audacity.
Relationships: Jannequinard/Stephanivien de Haillenarte
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	let's talk about sects

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aerynlallaboso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerynlallaboso/gifts).



> hi, aeryn. here you go, aeryn. eat up, aeryn.
> 
> jannequinard’s obtuse nature may make it hard to tell but steph is incredibly into him. poor guy. there are so many better boys out there!
> 
> note: there is language used "clit" for trans genitalia. i'm trans myself. the story is mostly from jannequinard's perspective, who is otherwise presumed cis for the story.

"I will be honest, my good friend," Jannequinard begins, with a customary, Durendaire-style shake of the head when they hear something disappointing, "I have seen— and experienced!— plenty of harnessed cockstands."

"Which is why I'm requesting your _expertise_ in my study!" Stephanivien proclaims. "For you see, _any_ man can experience a toy. Either wielding or the as the wielded."

One of Rostnsthal's machinists clears their throat in the next room over. It doesn't dissuade either Stephanivien nor Jannequinard from their discussion.

"However, this will be different," he continues. "For this creation has something unseen in any toy— certainly in Ishgard."

"And that is?"

"It vibrates."

Jannequinard's eyes illuminate greater than Ishgard's brightest sky on a day long before the Seventh Umbral Calamity.

* * *

The conundrum to follow, of course, would be the exact location of the test site.

It certainly could not be at the Manufactory. As much as other equipment might find value in their initial tests being performed on the very ground they were created, there is a certain _uncertainty_ he has in baring himself whole for the engineers. He's much rather a lot more confidence in the application’s safety and satisfaction before it is taken to public spaces!

And it would be preferable if there was no risk at "meddlesome Tedalgrinche" (Skysteel’s lead machinist’s very own words) dropping by. Or Stephanivien's father. Or Stephanivien's father with _his_ father.

Which, furthermore, put away any possibility of using their own houses as testing grounds. While Jannequinard does not shy from his admission of inviting many beautiful people to his quarters, even in the _presence_ of his father, it carries a different suggestion when Hallienarte’s own heir wanders in, contraptions at the ready. What _else_ could his father say? Scold him for putting more heretical nonsense inside his body (only this time more literally)?

Ultimately, it would seem that the plan will follow: Stephanivien will request a room in the Forgotten Knight, ushering whatever equipment he needs to operate the bloody thing alongside him. Not much long after, Jannequinard himself will enter the inn, and find the rented room himself. Eyes are everywhere in Ishgard, but he can afford a little idle gossip over world-ending inter-family drama. Besides, what if things don’t go as planned?

Not that he’s scaring himself with the idea. Rather, it serves as delightful inspiration. Who doesn’t want to experience total gratification never experienced before by any individual beneath the Fury's most Holy of gazes? Most people use aether. Now, they can simply press buttons. Stephanivien is truly a man of the people.

It is simple to lock the door as it falls shut behind him. Stephanivien lifts his head up from the bedside, where he's pulled several object from a very large, very hulking bag. Hardly discreet, but not everyone is as obfuscating as Jannequinard can be. There is oil for lubricant, a simple corked bottle that possibly contains water (but could also contain _more_ lubricant to use?), and paperwork. Diagnostics, studies, an order for more parts— all details likely from work, as the man is never far from his tools. Whatever it is, Jannequinard does not care _that_ much. What instead draws his attention is the little toy on the bedsheets, a delightfully phallic shape rounded at the top with a smooth silver coloured surface, attached to a black harness. Even from the door, he can tell it's a comfortable, possibly expensive leather. Stephanivien lifts a hand and smiles in greeting.

"Get yourself comfortable," he says to Jannequinard, as he takes a seat on a chair he has pulled to the side. Jannequinard's brow raises.

"I can only _assume_ you came here directly from work— it smells of the Manufactory in here. Will you be eventually undressing to join me? While I haven't a problem dressing down..."

Stephanivien looks down at his clothing. Well, at least they're _clean_. Not too much oil and machine paint stain his trousers, and he has at least had the decency to remove his gloves and shoes. "I've never had complaints, but I usually don't drop by other places before I find my way home. If you want to cut to the chase, we can get— naked."

Jannequinard clasps his hands together in absolute satisfaction. Stephanivien looks just as pleased, and grips his pen with an unbridled joy. It's far more enjoyable when you’re both enthusiastic and _into it,_ as they say. There's no joy in bashful falsehoods if you're the one who created the damn toy.

Which is a very interesting shape, as Jannequinard tries to study it from his position. He steps to the bed and begins to unfasten his sleeves, thinking of the practical approach. When present in the Manufactory, he struggled to separate the toy from the machinery and parts surrounding Stephanivien; sheepishly, he admits he expected a more elaborate setup required. It is a large tool, phallic and inviting, that looks as if it is made of polished steel. It is already attached to the harness, whose straps are tucked beneath the flank of leather. Without context, he might assume they were undergarments with a sex toy attached. In a way, perhaps that is what it is.

"Do you want me to undress you?" Stephanivien asks, and when Jannequinard looks at him with loosened sleeves, he realizes he's been staring at him.

He plucks his monocle from his eye and pockets it. "Ah, to serve another as foreplay. What a gentleman you are."

The expression Stephanivien returns to him is an incredulous one. "How positively unerotic of you." He stands and moves to undress his friend. He helps unfasten the last of the buttons on Jannequinard's sleeves, which now hang loose from his wrists. He finds the pinned fabric just beneath Jannequinard's collar, which holds the deep blue robes together, spilling open without their thin chains and looped buttons. Jannequinard notes — with an impolite grin — that Stephanivien stares at his exposed collar with a scandalized flush as the white shawl falls and reveals his skin.

Stephanivien's arms wrap around his waist as he fumbles for the hem of his robes' cincture, and Jannequinard wonders if it's all the work by hearths and open flames that has Stephanivien's skin so warm and soft. He has Jannequinard in a short embrace as his robes fall completely open, to which Stephanivien presses a hand through the fabric and helps slide it off his shoulder, splayed open from Jannequinard's stomach to the small of his back.

There is a unique sense of eroticism to be embraced nearly nude by a clothed man. Especially one that keeps stealing glances down his body while he tries to keep eye contact. Especially one that starts to massage his hips, one that presses his mouth to his collarbone, one that encourages Jannequinard to touch him too, find where skin peels under his clothes.

What patient hands he has, running up the flank of his hips and the shape of his back, running his fingers over every angle to memorize Jannequinard's body. Stephanivien is firm with his motions, feeling straightened edges and rubbing his skin so intimately he feels himself being moulded into the shape Stephanivien wants him to be. He closes his eyes and returns the embrace with one hand on Stephanivien's neck, leading him as he worships his open mouth over Jannequinard's collar. His cock stirs between his legs. Stephanivien gives him a thigh to rock against, and the thrill of attention starts to make Jannequinard dizzy.

He reaches a hand up and tugs at the black cloth covering Stephanivien's head, pulling it off his head and dropping it at the bottom of their bed with one carefree motion. Stephanivien grins against his skin when he realizes his blonde hair is free.

"Is that really your first move of the night?" he asks, lifting his head Jannequinard wonders if that was the wrong move, for it took Stephanivien's mouth off his neck.

"Simply, you could bear to look less formal— and that’s coming from someone with a scholar's alb." Jannequinard can feel his own breath against Stephanivien's skin. Does he want to kiss him again?

Instead, Stephanivien pulls him from the collapsed robes to the bed, helping Jannequinard's trousers off of him before he sits. Jannequinard glances to the toy waiting for him as Stephanivien reaches to pick it up. He gives it to Jannequinard to hold — it has a pleasant weight to it, and the cockstand is quite wide. How _exciting._

Stephanivien stares at his cock, soft between his thighs. How _exciting!_

"One moment," he says, without even trying to hide his teasing lilt. Jannequinard beams with unbridled satisfaction.

It is then that Jannequinard is treated to the stripping of Stephanivien de Haillenarte; he unbuckles his belt and frees himself with a shimmy of his hips— _very_ charming. His hips dip to a bright bush of coarse blond hair, with long legs kicking free of his heavy trousers. His shirt is easier to shed, with his bare chest crowding over Jannequinard. The handsome shape of his friend is distracting, that he hardly had any time to examine the harness. When Stephanivien takes it from him, his eyes widen at the treat.

It is dual-sides, with a shorter piece that curls up, more defined than the longer phallus— enough to curve inside its user, rather than penetrate another wholly. There is a small cord that trails up the inside of the leather, where it leads to a button on the waist. Stephanivien leans forward and rests a leg on the bed at his side, and it is with a long, soundless, and somewhat stern look that Jannequinard realizes he’s asking for help. He presses the harness against Stephanivien's groin as he adjusts the smaller cock, pressing it into his entrance. Stephanivien groans. It sends a stirring heat to Jannequinard's own cock.

"You hardly let me prepare you," Jannequinard mutters, which is an octave he has never once used before in his life.

"I have spent quite enough time— Fury, it had to be several bells since noon— thinking about how I wanted to use this bloody thing on you," Stephanivien replies, low and heavy, as he begins to strap the leather in place. "I've been in a frustrating state of arousal since the sun was at its peak in the sky. It'd be embarrassing if I weren't already here."

Jannequinard's eyes light up with dumbfounded reverence.

"Now—" Stephanivien straightens, and seems to brighten with confidence from his shining admiration, "Sit up. Lay back. Whatever way you want."

With audacious satisfaction, Jannequinard throws his legs up on the bed and pulls himself up, adjusting the blanket so he lays in the sheets with two pillows framing his head. How absolutely luxurious he feels, nude and lusted after. Stephanivien crawls up his body, the dark harness a unique sight resting on his pale hips. Jannequinard welcomes him between his legs while Stephanivien reaches for the oil, and he finds himself stroking Stephanivien’s knees as a touch of affection.

Stephanivien prepares him with method and purpose; he spreads his legs and pushes his fingers inside him with a firm roll of his wrist, effortlessly drawing a hard groan out of Jannequinard. And here he thought he was _ready—_ Stephanivien unravels every knot in his body just from fucking him on two fingers, circling to find the corners of muscle that makes Jannequinard bottom out. His arms are useless, and he offers his lingering strength through his hips, canting them upward with his cock firm and rapt for attention.

Jannequinard lifts his head from his chest and arm movements to note Stephanivien is practically _beaming_ at him. He is most certain that the smile he returns is a dumb, wobbly thing, with gritted teeth and squinting eyes.

His left leg is pulled up a little farther, and with complete and ecstatic thrill he realizes Stephanivien is lining himself up with Jannequinard’s hole. He watches Stephanivien brace his thigh with one hand and his other brushing against his own hip, where he fumbles against the strap keeping his harness snug on his body. He is moments from asking if there is an issue, when he remembers the toy’s whole appeal as Stephanivien presses into him.

The vibration pulses through his body in a sudden wave— both men gasp, the tremor equal against their bodies as it reaches full charge. Jannequinard feels his whole body shake, like a chill through an open window, before he bares himself completely to be had. It is as idyllic and indescribable as his first night with a man, many moons ago, but this is different. This one _vibrates._ Like a machine at full throttle. Or a crystal full of aether, humming in your palm. Any prestige he had manufactured in his mind melted like ice as he grabs Stephanivien’s arms.

He appreciates the deep breath that Stephanivien takes before he presses his hips deeper. He cares— that much remains clear— but he need not adjust his pace and whisper in caution. Jannequinard would rather he be read so easily, open like a synastry chart with careful hands that know when to give. He locks his legs around Stephanivien, firm around his hips to help press into his hole and get the toy farther into Stephanivien’s own body. Stephanivien yelps when the vibration ruts against his clit, and he hilts the cock.

"Enjoying yourself—?" Stephanivien asks, a hitch in his voice.

"Capital," Jannequinard sighs, "Fuck me, you absolute _genius."_

The hand laid across his eyes falls back into the two pillows, gripping them to ground himself as Stephanivien obliges his cries with a hard rut. He angles himself further and it must snap something inside him for he is kissing Jannequinard, mouth sealed over his as he stutters and groans fervently into his mouth. Jannequinard realizes he must be coming, for Stephanivien’s hips press firm into his own to bury his whole cock’s length inside as he rides the vibrating toy, using Jannequinard’s body as leverage for his own release. The sudden act of selfishness makes Jannequinard see stars.

He feels his own body coil around an urgent release, wishing and waiting and wanting every firm press given to him to cut every rope holding him back and give his enthusiasm to Stephanivien and his Godly mechanism. He’s almost forgotten a world without it vibrating against his prostate until Stephanivien gasps for breath and moves his body just enough that the full pressure stops as he rocks his own body. Jannequinard thinks he’s going to start crying.

 _“Damn you!”_ he sobs, gripping Stephanivien with a force unknown to any astrologist of the Athenaeum. "If you think I’m letting you pull out of me without bringing me to absolute _rapture_ — _"_

As if drawn to immediate reparation, Stephanivien throws himself back into the position he was servicing Jannequinard in, pushing himself up on his elbows to lay close against him as he drives deep inside Jannequinard, offering his hand to the poor scholar’s neglected cock. He hits deep, kindness through action yet unrelenting in how he labours. The dutiful touch and the deep vibrations is what shatters the last of his resolve, and Jannequinard comes apart with a wide grin and nails raking across Stephanivien's shoulders in one coiled motion of absolute rhapsody. He isn't crying, but he _is_ giggling.

The vibrations rock through his body, deep against his core in a way he has never known before now. His shriek is soundless, limp and open beneath Stephanivien, who presses their bodies firm together and crowds Jannequinard's head with his arms. The warmth of his stomach is inviting against Jannequinard's spent cock. Stephanivien's hips jolt in shallow ruts, sending sparks through them both.

He presses a pleased kiss to Jannequinard’s cheek. It snatches him from his dreams back to lucidity, and he stares up at his dear friend, still buried to the hilt inside him. He feels his breath burn in his throat, just as much as warm red flushes across Stephanivien’s cheeks. He feels one of his hands linger in his hair, stroking his scalp through his tousled locks.

"I'll be giving your toy— and performance— _raving_ reviews," Jannequinard announces, breathless.

Stephanivien blinks, with perplexity and vigor. "I'll leave you a formal questionnaire," he teases.


End file.
